


Cough Syrup

by StainedGlassSpecs



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 01:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14273970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StainedGlassSpecs/pseuds/StainedGlassSpecs
Summary: Sometimes Steve leaves, but he always comes back. This time, he came back too late.





	Cough Syrup

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene for the Halloween Party, where Steve (apparently) pulls a dick move and leaves Nancy there. I think Jonathan was supposed to be lying when he told her that he spoke to Steve before taking her home, but it's ambiguous enough for some wiggle room. I just felt that it was important to explore more. I adore Steve, but he's not perfect, and he's dealing with Some Adult Shit.
> 
> Title comes from Cough Syrup, by Young the Giant.

_Bullshit_.

The word followed him out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and through the mass of faceless people as he pushed his way to freedom. He burst through the front door and into the cold night air. It didn’t feel like the escape he’d wanted.

 _Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit._ It buzzed in his ears as he crossed the lawn. _Everything you love about this dark, shitty little world is_ bullshit.

He staggered to a halt just beside the curb, breathing fast and heavy. Back inside, people were still laughing, jeering and yelling. Billy was still in there somewhere, drawing people into his bright, wild orbit. The smell of alcohol in the air ( _on her breath, soaking her clothes_ ) made him feel suddenly nauseous. Christ, he hated them. Was this how Nancy felt when she looked at him? Like just the sight of him filled her with disgust?

Steve swiped a hand over his eyes, furious and humiliated even though no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to him. Honestly, he hadn’t been on people’s radar for a good few months, now, Billy or no Billy. His popularity was down to its last dregs. He’d let it slip away without really caring, because he finally had something _good_ , something _real_ , and what she thought of him meant more than anyone else.

But Nancy didn’t love him, so that was all gone, now, too.

Steve kicked an empty can across the road. He wanted to get back in his car and drive with all the windows down and the music blaring. He wanted to go home to his empty house, get drunk by himself, and sleep for hundred years. He wanted to go back upstairs and yell at Nancy, make her see how much she’d hurt him. He wanted to turn back time a couple of hours, back to when he knew that he and Nancy were in love, they were partners, and they could take on the world ( _college, adulthood, flesh-eating monsters_ ) together.

Steve hated it when the world got turned upside down and blissful ignorance gave way to harsh reality. This was probably not as bad as the monster? Only just, though.

He glanced back up at the windows on the second floor. Nancy was probably still in the bathroom, scrubbing at her sweater. Or maybe she’d given up on that, too, accepted it as a lost cause. In her mind’s eye, he saw her clutching the ceramic edge of the sink, head bowed as she tried to hold herself steady. She would be breathing deeply through pursed lips, willing herself not to throw up. Nancy didn’t drink much. She knew herself so well that it made Steve jealous, and was always careful to stop at around two – anymore than that compromised her self-control. Well, she’d thrown that control _right_ out the window tonight, along with his heart.

How long had she been holding all those words in? He knew she was grieving, and he’d tried to support her, but obviously, it hadn’t been what she needed.

That was its own special brand of bullshit, because he needed her more than anything. Did she know that? Did she care?

Steve shoved his hands on his pockets and trudged back and forth across the sidewalk. Something dark, bitter and hopeless was rising in his throat, and it made him want to go home and leave Nancy right here, trying not to spew her guts out. Getting that drunk was her choice, right? Maybe she’d done it to push him away. Maybe she wanted to sink her sorrows into someone else for the night, and hell, maybe he should let her. If she was so determined to be miserable, then there was nothing he could do about it. He’d _tried_.

Another group of guys pulled up, parking crookedly across the edge of the lawn. They piled out of their car, laughing and shoving each other as they loped up to the front door. Steve remembered how comfortable it was to be one of those assholes.

One of them made a crack about how great it was to turn up at this time of night, because all the girls were already drunk. Steve’s hands curled into fists. It was an automatic reaction, something tugging him back towards Nancy’s side at the mere suggestion of risk, no matter how little he wanted to face her again right now. He was a little buzzed himself, and looking at her judgmental eyes again might _actually_ make him cry .

Steve rubbed his eyes and groaned, trying to get a grip. Okay, sure, Nancy was drunk. It hadn’t stopped her from being an asshole to him, but it also didn’t stop her from being vulnerable.  Even if nothing happened, she’d still wake up the next day in a strange house, surrounded by strange people, and wonder. Nancy being Nancy, she’d swallow down her fear and get herself home. She’d get on with life and be her usual brave, smart, resilient self, but a little piece of her would be all the more broken for it, and he would just be another horrible part of this world that she couldn’t rely on.

He’d always thought, if nothing else, that he and Nancy could always rely on each other.

Steve sighed deeply and turned back around to trudge inside. But after the group of guys pushed their way through the front door, someone else emerged. Steve stopped.

Jonathan Byers was standing on the doorway, with Nancy hanging off his arm. He caught Steve’s eye and froze, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Nancy was barely conscious, her eyelids fluttering and her face angled towards Jonathan’s chest.

“I, um. I was just gonna take her home,” Jonathan said quickly.

Steve couldn’t speak. That old, bitter feeling had flooded his throat again, but he didn’t feel angry. He just felt hopeless.

At his silence, Jonathan drew himself up slightly, keeping a secure grip around Nancy’s waist. “I thought you’d left.”

“I came back,” Steve said. His voice sounded far away. After another long silence, he realised that this was his cue to do something.

He knew what the script called for. What he should do is stride forward, smile confidently, and wrap his own arm around Nancy, pulling her back to his side. He should say tell Jonathan _it’s_ _no problem, I've got this. Nance just had a few too many. Lightweight, am I right? I’ll make sure she gets to bed nice and safe before her mom loses it_. _See you at school, man._ And they would both pretend this never happened. That’s what a boyfriend would do. That’s what a man would do.

Steve did and said none of those things. He jerked forward slightly, a pathetic, aborted movement that didn’t actually go anywhere, and shrugged. “I mean, I can. If you don’t want to.”

Jonathan squinted his eyes at Steve, looking confused. “Did something happen?” he asked, more gently than Steve would have expected. Then he realised, with dawning horror, that he probably looked like he’d been crying.

“Forget it, Byers,” he snapped. “You wanna take her home? Go for it.”

Jonathan’s eyes darkened. “I’m not going to …”

“I _know_.” Steve hadn’t meant it like that, though part of him wishes he did. It would feel good to say something cutting. He and Jonathan didn’t hate each other (as far as he knew) but they didn’t really talk, either. They just sort of hovered awkwardly in each other’s peripheral vision, connected by two things: Nancy Wheeler, and demon fighting. There was as strange, unspoken agreement that, if a monster popped up right now, they’d probably stand side by side and fight it again. Steve wished they didn’t have this. He wanted to be angry and jealous and _normal_. He wanted to hate Jonathan Byers for being better than him, but life didn't work that way anymore.

Jonathan just pursed his lips and nodded, sparing them further interaction. As he passed by, Nancy’s eyes slid to Steve, but the disgust and anger had left her. Now, she just looked blank. And tired. Steve let them go without another word.

There had always been parts of Nancy that he could never reach. Steve knew that. She had her eyes on the horizon, and the stars, and the future. She faced down monsters with a gun and steady hands, and she pushed and pushed until she got what she wanted. In spite of all this, she was gentle in unexpected ways. She felt things deeply; more than he could comprehend, let alone begin to deal with. They both had nightmares, but hers were different. She woke up crying instead of screaming.

Steve did not watch as Jonathan got Nancy into her car, but he could see it anyway. He’d handle her with care and sureness, looking at her fondly as she sprawled gracelessly against the window. He might tuck her in when he got home, after helping her throw up. And if he stayed over, lying on her floor and guarding her throughout the night, she would not be afraid to wake up by his side.

Steve wished he remembered what it felt like to wake up feeling safe. The bitter feeling started to rise again, but he’d let this happen, after all, so Steve swallowed it all down and started to make his way home. Feelings were pretty much just bullshit anyway.


End file.
